


To Please You

by Nununununu



Series: Nununununu's Kinktober 2019 fics [25]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (Male Body Sushi), Aftercare, BDSM, Ball Stretcher, Boot Worship, Bottom Steve Rogers, Butt Plugs, Cock Rings, Consensual Kink, Consensual Punishment Play, Day 24, Dom/sub, Don't copy to another site, Edgeplay, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Femdom, Human Furniture, Impact Play, Kinktober 2019, Nantaimori, Nipple Clamps, Not Romance, Orgasm Delay, Paddling, Praise Kink, Restraints, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Toys, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 14:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: “Hah,” Steve makes the tiniest of exhalations when Natasha selects a piece of thinly sliced gari from the little china dish balanced near his backbone, the sweet young ginger that makes her taste buds sing when she lets it rest for a moment on her tongue.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Series: Nununununu's Kinktober 2019 fics [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1504160
Comments: 8
Kudos: 86
Collections: Kinktober 2019





	To Please You

**Author's Note:**

> Day 24: Natasha Romanov/Steve Rogers (Femdom #3, Impact play, Nipple Clamps, Sounding, Praise Kink #2, Forniphilia (human furniture), Nantaimori (male body sushi), Orgasm Delay, Edgeplay, Sex Toys #3, Cock Rings, Ball Stretchers, Boot Worship, Butt Plugs, Consensual Punishment Play - Paddling, Use Of Everyday Items)
> 
> **Trigger warning for all the kinks** \- please read the tags before reading this. Includes impact play (paddling) to genitals as consensual 'punishment', urethral fingering and references to futher kinks not included in fic itself. A bit of super soldier serum hand waving when it comes to some of the smut and Natasha refers to Steve as 'pet' (meant as an endearment and form of safeword/checking in without breaking scene). She also calls him boy, while he calls her ma'am. All the kinks are agreed to in advance and remain consensual throughout. Just in case, no offence or cultural appropriation regarding references to Japanese culture and the nantaimori kink is intended.
> 
> This seems to be the only way I can manage to write het XD

Steve’s not doing badly.

Natasha has been curled up on her cushions for the past hour, licking her fingers delicately as she takes her time enjoying the last of her meal, made just the way she likes it from the tiny place down by the water where the wrinkled old sushi master calls her Yūreiko, the ghost child. Thinking of the nickname makes her smile as she savours the perfect amount of wasabi and the beautifully prepared rice, each of the neat little maki rolls formed in the shape of a petal so that, when several of them are placed together, they form a flower.

“_Hah_,” Steve makes the tiniest of exhalations when Natasha selects a piece of thinly sliced gari from the little china dish balanced near his backbone, the sweet young ginger that makes her taste buds sing when she lets it rest for a moment on her tongue.

The sound is barely audible and so, to reward him, Natasha curves her hand under the table she’s crafted out of the long line of his back and strong limbs, and strokes her hand just once down the stiff ardent length of his cock. Avoiding the red, swollen head and pressing the shaft up against his belly before gliding her palm down to tap the flat of her index finger against the ring she fastened earlier around the base.

Steve’s cock leaks another fat droplet of precome onto the puddle that’s been slowly but steadily growing for a while now on the polished floorboards of Natasha’s bedroom. This is acceptable; she’ll have him clear it up later.

“_Hah – hah_ –” But Steve pants so very nearly soundlessly again, his elbows and knees trembling only just perceptibly, but Natasha knows, and she sees. And this is not so acceptable.

She had requested peace and quiet during her meal, for silence as much as possible, and this –

This is not silence. Steve is not doing badly, he is _trying _and she appreciates this, but –

But. He knows the rules.

Natasha pulls her hand away from his cock.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she murmurs, because he responds so well to it – to _nurturing_, to care and concern, and to praise, very much so; to knowing he’s pleased her.

And to knowing when he’s displeased her, as well.

Curving her fingers over his hip, she continues, “But how am I to concentrate on my lunch if you are making so much noise? I will be in trouble of losing my appetite if this carries on.”

And there it is – a tiny distressed little noise just spilling out into Steve’s closed mouth from the back of his throat. The noise he only makes when he’s so turned on he’s desperate, when he’s frantic to do as she wants and knows full well he can’t quite manage it.

His cock jerks visibly as Natasha tuts.

“Do I need to punish you?” She releases his hip to card her fingers through his hair instead, stroking over the proud arch of his skull, before fisting them in the short growth at the nape of his neck, tightening until he arches his neck.

“Ah –” It’s another minute sound.

Steve’s eyes remain trained on the painting of the lily on the opposite wall, the one she had asked him to look at and not look away from. Rather than speaking, he waits.

This is better. This is good.

But Natasha expects more than ‘good’, and there’s still the problem of the noise.

Removing the emptied dishes off Steve’s back with her free hand and setting them alongside her cup of matcha on the lacquerware tray to one side, Natasha tugs harder at his hair, pulling Steve up along with it. His body moving wonderfully as he rises, betraying no sign of effort from the length of time he’s spent acting as her table aside from the slightest of trembles to the thick muscles of his thighs. His hands follow him to rest neatly at his sides as he knows Natasha likes, the long curve of his cock straining towards the ceiling beautifully.

It’s a very pretty picture. But.

“I asked you a question, pet,” Natasha prompts, and that’s a key word, ‘pet’: when she says it, Steve knows he can speak. He also knows she’s checking in by running her fingers through his hair, asking him for his status and requesting a renewal of his consent without breaking the scene.

“If it would please you to punish me,” His voice is low, quiet, pleasingly hoarse; thick with restrained pleasure and banked, burning _want_, “I believe it would help me greatly to do better, ma’am. If you feel I deserve it.”

This is all honest; she can hear it in his tone. It is also phrased in a way that they both know means go ahead; _yes_.

“Perhaps,” Natasha thus pretends to deliberate, her fingers stirring through those short hairs at his nape, letting Steve know he’s doing well, he’s appreciated, “I think that you do deserve it. You respond very well to instruction for the most part, don’t you, pet.”

“Th-thank you, ma’am,” A fresh round bead of precome swells up from the slit of Steve’s juddering cock at the implication that he has not always responded as adeptly they both would wish in the past.

Captain America is always expected to succeed, and he does. Steve always strives to succeed, similarly, but sometime he fails however he does his best. And Natasha has learned during their time together that he enjoys her acknowledging this.

It gives him something to fight for; something to live up to. A goal.

Letting go, Natasha grazes her fingers down over one shoulder to let Steve know he needs to stay like that, bent backwards so beautifully in a position that would strain anyone other than a super soldier if they maintained it for more than a few minutes: the glorious plush curve of his rounded ass not quite resting on his heels, all of his weight supported by his knees and his thighs.

Just to take him off guard – because this is not his punishment, not at all – Natasha catches hold of the thin chain suspended between the clamps affixed to his nipples and hooks her little finger over it, pulling it very gently, just until Steve has to set his lips over his teeth to muffle his pants.

His nipples are very red within the clamps, his chest flushed. Natasha has another clamp she’s going to work him up to using as well, not today but soon – one that goes over the head of his cock and she can tighten, with a little screw.

As she collects her cup of tea from the tray, Natasha takes a moment to appreciate the stretcher she fastened around Steve’s heavy balls, the first time that he came close to orgasm despite her having settled the cock ring in place. The device draws Steve’s balls away from his body, weighing them down, the skin smoothed out over his scrotum when Natasha drags her fingertips gently over it as she sips her drink.

Behind his closed lips, Steve whines.

“Hush, Steve,” Her voice is warm.

She likes it, likes touching him like this – unexpectedly and never for long. One day Natasha’s going to leave him like this for a whole morning or afternoon, maybe go and do some training in the middle of it or have a phone call with Clint, just stroking and tweaking Steve’s body occasionally whenever and wherever she pleases. Give him the chance to really absorb the length of time and the wait. She has a feeling they’ll both enjoy that.

Fiddling with the chain attached the nipple clamps one more time, Natasha returns her cup to the tray and picks up the little paddle she has decided to use today for punishment.

It isn’t a full sized one, not something she’d use on his ass. Barely more than a finger wide and the same in length; it’s actually the wooden cricket bat from the century old incredibly detailed doll’s house she has displayed over on the low table set in the alcove in one corner. The opposite corner of Natasha’s room contains a corresponding area in which she has hung a scroll containing some of her favourite poetry and, upon a low table, her most treasured knife.

Steve knows better than to ever approach either corner; those private places that Natasha took a long time to feel comfortable to construct. His place is here, near her nest of cushions opposite the lily painting, his pleading cock pointing towards the ceiling as she instructs him to relax in a murmur.

“Sit on your heels, pet.”

He does with graceful, trembling submission, knees parted so his balls hang down heavily between his thighs: Steve may be gazing at the lily, but he knows what is in her hand. He knows what is coming.

The little paddle looks laughable, but Natasha has the knowledge and precision to put it to its intended purpose as punishment, and make him shudder with it. She’s used larger ones on Steve before, something they discussed in detail before starting any of this, and she had insisted he provide her a list of all the places he wants punishment – or contact of any kind – along with a more general list of _yes_, _no_ and _maybe_.

Steve had been very clear that his favourite kind of punishment involves impact to his nipples or the head of his cock. Natasha had made him come once, just by flicking the curve of his glans with her nail like that until he was sobbing with arousal, yelling gratefully behind a gag.

That time, she’d allowed him the muffled noise.

In the future she’s got plans to repeat this, but after inserting a sound into his urethra; to see what Steve makes of impact while impaled like that.

“Several strikes to begin with, perhaps,” Natasha muses now and that ‘perhaps’ is a key word too, a reminder that Steve can signal to speed up or slow down if needed, to ask for clarification or object. That was one thing Natasha had been insistent on herself, that they both have a means of doing this.

She’s been in too many situations herself, in a variety of settings during her working life, to permit otherwise.

“_Mm_,” It's an appreciative sound: Steve often enjoys not knowing how many times he’ll receive punishment.

“Eyes closed for me now,” Natasha gets hold of his cock again as he obeys, grasping it with finger and thumb just above the ring this time and sliding the hoop of her hand slowly upwards like that until she’s gripping him just beneath the corona, her thumb brushing his frenulum, holding his shaft in place. Keeping it steady; keeping it safe.

Shifting her thumb upwards a bit further, Natasha squeezes the glans, watching the way it expands, precome glistening at the tip.

“Are you ready, pet?” She touches the smooth flat side of the little paddle against his crown, dabbing it in the viscous liquid his cock is producing, wetting it.

“I’m ready, ma’am,” Steve takes a breath in and sinks into it, his whole body open and anticipating, everything about him loosening except for his cock.

“Good boy,” Natasha taps him, just once, not too heavy and not too light, on that broad head of his dick.

“_Mm!_” Steve jerks and slides his hands down his calves to grip his ankles, which is a movement she’ll allow. They might discuss it later, might talk about ways to avert the need for this, but for now – for now it’s all right.

“Again,” Natasha strikes his cock a little harder this time, unpredictably on one side of the head, before running the length of the paddle very gently over the slit.

She would very much like to try out her collection of sounds on him. Steve would take to it wonderfully well, she thinks. It’s something he indicated a lot of interest in on the forms, but they’ve talked about it and she doesn’t believe he’s quite ready yet.

But still, there is something she thinks he _is_ ready for.

Natasha swirls her little finger over his slit after she draws the paddle back, working it a little looser, drawing out more precome.

“I’m going to try something, pet,” This is a question although it isn’t phrased as one; asking directly for his explicit consent.

Steve knows what it means, “Yes ma’am. Please. Yes.”

The repetition isn’t necessary, but still pleasing nonetheless.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Natasha gives his cock a firm triple pat with the paddle without warning as a reward and not punishment, just as Steve likes it, and he has to work hard not to yelp, stomach jerking, balls swinging between his legs as his eyelashes flutter, his hands clinging to his ankles as he nearly comes.

“I’m going to try it now,” Natasha doesn’t give him more than a few seconds to recover, shifting her finger and thumb from under the head to gently pinch at the crown, watching the slit wink and flex.

She eases her little finger very gently inside, just up to the first knuckle, just to see what he makes of it. It’s more than she might give another man to start with – or woman, come to that – but she knows Steve and knows his body, and she knows how much he can take. Just like wearing the cock ring and stretcher for so long – he can endure more, _craves_ more than most.

“You’re doing very well, pet,” She still seeks confirmation nonetheless.

“_Ah – ah – oh_ – _thank you, ma’am_,” His face brilliantly red, Steve all but bows over into her, his expression tightening in the way she understands means he’s overcome with pleasure and need, his shoulders shaking as goose bumps sweep visibly up over his skin. He gasps, “Thank you, _yes_.”

“It would please me if you continue to make a small amount of noise while I try something else,” Natasha both gives permission and asks again for his consent.

“Mm – oh ma’am – mm, _yes please_ – _hah_ – oh, thank you,” As Steve immediately gives the latter, Natasha keeps her little finger inside him like that, and uses her other hand to jerk him off. Slow to start with, ever so slow, before speeding up, bringing him to the edge several times, feeling his cock tremble and precome seep around her little finger when she moves it minimally. Letting go of his shaft every so often to tug at his clamped nipples or at the chain, swiping her thumb over his lip, something she only does when she’s especially pleased with him, enjoying the way he lets out little whines and moans.

Steve never touches her, aside from the times she instigates it.

Natasha never takes her clothes off during these encounters either, never has him use toys or his hands or anything at all on her except, sometimes, his gaze. She’ll let him look at her in brief, rare instances, although only when she is instructing him, coaxing him through something, and never when she’s going to allow him to come.

She doesn’t allow him to come now.

“Hah – hah – hah –” Steve is sighing happy little mewling whimpers through shaking lips when Natasha lets go of him altogether. He’s flushed darker than she’s ever seen, all the way from his vibrant nipples up the length of his throat to his cherry red cheeks, and his cock is so engorged with blood it’s almost purple, the cock ring pressing into the meat of his shaft.

Natasha taps it with the little paddle at the same time as she pops her little finger out of his urethra, and Steve flails and his rasping moan quavers in a way she’s never heard before.

“Mah – oh – sha – ohhh –” he pants after this, and the stretcher around his balls looks painful now, has for a while, but he’s not giving any of their prearranged signals to indicate that he wants relief from it or that he wants anything to change.

But those sounds he makes –

They’re reminiscent in a way of some of the syllables of her name, and this is definitely not allowed.

“Steve,” Natasha says very calmly, just that, and he falls still, going utterly quiet, knowing he has transgressed.

“Punishment,” Natasha tells him, “Let go of your ankles, reach between your legs, and pull out the plug you have been wearing for me. Put it back in. Do this twelve times, as steadily as you can. I’ll count. Do not waver, do not slow down and do not allow the plug to touch your prostate.”

Now this is a challenge. Natasha has had Steve fuck himself for her before and it’s always been something he’s loved, been greedy for, his ass seeking to swallow the plug or vibrator or dildo up; he’s always relished whatever she’s had him use.

And he’s always, always quite naturally and unconsciously gone for his prostate.

“I am waiting for you to answer me, pet,” Natasha adds a hint of steel to her voice at this, watching him react to it; watching him respond to this order that is also a request.

“Yes – _yes_ ma’am. Please. I would be very grateful for the chance to do this,” Steve is very aware that, while Natasha might apologise to him under very specific circumstances as part of the scene, he is never to do the same in words. He apologises for his transgressions, his failures to succeed, with his body instead.

“Then why are you making me wait,” Natasha says very softly, just to make him shiver in appreciation.

“With your permission then, ma’am, I’ll get started,” Steve reaches behind and under him, his fingers seeking out the base of the butt plug. Natasha waits until he’s caught hold of it, until he’s just started to slide it out.

“No,” she orders, “Hold. Stay there, just like that.”

“_Oh – oh_ –” Steve’s mouth opens and closes. His body works to maintain the position, abdomen twitching when she runs her fingers in a line down his chest and belly, drumming them briefly on the head of his cock, causing him to cry out.

“That’s my good boy, Steve,” she murmurs as she loosens the stretcher from his balls, releasing it carefully. Not because it will make his punishment easier on him, but because it will make it more difficult.

Natasha weighs those heavy balls in her palm, feeling them immediately rise up towards his body, her fingers dipping between his spread legs to rub his perineum while Steve breathes hard, motionless except for his trembling.

Then she settles back on her cushions and picks up her tea.

“Now you may begin.”

“Thank – thank you ma’am,_ thank you so much_,” He does. Manages five strokes, with her counting, slow and steady and timed just right despite his increasingly shaky thighs and hands. She can see by Steve's expression he’s succeeding in avoiding his prostate.

“Six,” Natasha says, and strikes the head of his cock firmly yet gently with the paddle, right as he slides the butt plug deep inside himself.

“_A-ah!”_ Steve’s voice fractures; he spasms, cock jerking hard to the left, “Yes – yes please, ma’am – oh – oh –”

“Seven,” Natasha insists, not missing a beat, striking him again right on the flexing slit, and Steve’s voice goes high and faint.

He’s going to come like this and he’s not going to make twelve.

“Don’t you dare,” Natasha warns softly, and Steve hisses, gulping for breath between clenched teeth.

“I won’t, I won’t, please, I promise; I’ll be good –”

“Make me proud, Steve,” Natasha grasps hold of his balls, tugs them down herself, easing the pressure a bit even as she says, “Eight.”

And Steve drives the plug back inside himself, shivering fit to pieces, and doesn’t come.

“Remember this is a punishment, pet,” Natasha reminds him, “Remember how you displeased me.” She lets her voice warm, “Nine. You’re not displeasing me now, Steve. You're doing very well.” His whole upper body is angled in towards her, his eyes shut tight, drinking in her words, “Good boy. Ten.”

She gives him a sharp rap on his cockhead this time, the maximum impact she’ll allow in such an area even though he said openly when they discussed it that he’s willing to take much more.

They can build up to it. Natasha is happy to use greater strength on his buttocks, the backs of his thighs. But she suspects that there’s a line still between Steve’s mind wanting something and his body enjoying it.

One day they’ll work him past it.

“_Hah –!_” Natasha timed the strike so Steve’s not in danger of hurting himself on the plug – he shoots upwards, the toy very nearly popping out, and only just manages to keep the tapered head of it within his body as he sits back down, “_Oh – ah_ –”

Natasha says implacably, “Eleven,” and then – when he’s impressed her by managing that one, his entire body fighting to achieve it – “Twelve.”

“_Twelve_,” Steve echoes faintly, and she’ll let it slide, given he slumps in relief, his cock still hard and balls still full, his face full of such intense gratitude and fulfilment it’s like he’s already come. “Oh thank you, ma’am,” he’s saying, “_Thank you, thank you_ –”

“You did well, Steve,” Natasha strokes his hair and mops his sweaty brow with a handkerchief she has set to one side for this very purpose, “You’ve made me happy. I’m proud of you, pet, so proud. Would you like a little treat?”

This is her signal, this is the endgame – she’s asking if he wants to orgasm now.

“_Please_; if you would like me to, ma’am,” Steve replies airlessly, which is the correct answer, “If you would like to; i-if you’d be so, so kind, I –”

“Too much talking,” Natasha catches hold of his balls, less gently this time, and he immediately goes silent, body flinching around the need to howl.

Steve waits there like that, the butt plug still inside him, hands back on his ankles, his chest rising and falling fast. The serum enhances everything about him enough that Natasha can hear his racing heart.

“That’s better, lovely boy,” She grows tender again now he’s subsided, her point made, and there’s so much joy in Steve’s face at this, the highest praise she has for him.

“_Oh_,” he murmurs as she pours lube onto her fingers and rubs it around the cock ring, gently, so gently working at it, coaxing it out from the groove its scored into the base of his cock – not so tight it’s done any damage, something she has been sure to monitor throughout, but tight enough it takes time and care to remove.

“That’s it, Steve, that’s it; nearly done,” Natasha slides her hands up the length of his dick one after the other soft and sure, drawing the cock ring with her until it slips off the slick bulbous head of his cock, “There you go.”

“Please, please ma’am,” he’s whispering, hair falling in his red sweaty face, his expression transcendent, his dick leaking copiously now it’s freed.

“I’m going to make you come for me,” Natasha wraps a slick hand around his shaft, motionless for the moment, “Move the plug inside you in time, not too quickly or too deep; you're not allowed to hurt yourself. It would, however, please me if you aim for your prostate.”

“_Yes please_, ma’am,” Steve is prompt to obey.

They get to nineteen like that, with Natasha counting for him, the eager throaty rasp of his breathing and the sticky wetness of his cock as she pumps it the only sounds in the room.

“Twenty,” Natasha says, and raps that begging cockhead with the little paddle.

“Ahhh – ahhh – _ohhh_ –” Steve wails and comes and comes and comes, spunk shooting up towards the ceiling, spraying on his shoulder, in his hair. Natasha presses his dick against his belly so none of it splashes on her, strokes the inside of his thighs to make him shudder, and monitors the depth of the plug inside him as his hands and knees spasm.

“Oh,” Steve is saying in a tiny voice when he’s finally finished, curled on the carpet, his head on her knee, “Oh, oh –”

“You’re my good boy,” Natasha soothes him, “My lovely boy, my Steve,” as he comes down, one of her hands in his hair and the other caressing the long line of his back, “You did so brilliantly, so very well.”

She stretches a leg out in front of her when Steve whines and paws at the cushions, and whispers his request – he’s allowed to speak at any time now, to ask anything, to do whatever he likes.

And what he always likes to do at this point is to press his fervent mouth to the inner ankle of her boot and worship the dark, smart, clean sleek leather; to moan and pant and caress the shape of it up to Natasha’s knee where it ends, never seeking to touch her without permission, never going further than this. When Steve’s closed his teeth ever so gently over the edge of the top of the boot, throat working as he swallows, Natasha will offer him the other one.

“Thank you, ma’am, that was all wonderful, so wonderful, so incredible; thank you,” Steve is murmuring over and over around her ankle now.

Soon enough, Natasha will get her soft, sheer dressing gown he likes so much and drape it over him, and feed him the sushi that’s been waiting for him in its sealed container, letting Steve take it piece by piece from her hands. Before that she’ll make him drink plenty of water and speak to him more words of praise, of encouragement, of acknowledgement of how wonderfully he’s done. She’ll stroke his hair again and brush her thumb along the line of his long eyelashes where they graze his cheek.

Now though, Natasha sits on her cushions as Steve sighs his relief and wonder and gratitude into her boots, and picks up her little teapot to pour herself another cup of tea.


End file.
